Behind the Books - September 2024

Another spreadsheet, another day of mindlessly balancing numbers that don't matter to me at all. The office around me buzzes with the low rumble of phone calls, keyboards clacking, and the occasional sneeze, as my eyes fixate on endless rows of data. My boss rounds the corner and drops a new stack of files on my desk, walking away without a word. A poster in front of my desk headlined, “Daily Tasks,” reads in bold text: Balance the accounts, Check the reports, and Make sure everything adds up. It was all just numbers, every day the same. I can practically do it in my sleep by now… I basically do. That being said, I don’t dislike my work; it’s just numbing. The spreadsheets blur together, but I keep at it because, well, I’m good at it, and the bills need to be paid.

The moment the clock finally hit 5:00, I grabbed my bag and slipped out without saying a word. I headed out onto the street, joining the mindless after work mob moving towards the subway station. In my small apartment, I put some random Earth documentary on the TV, and dove down several reddit rabbit holes until my brain rotted itself to sleep. Waking up on the couch in the middle of the night, I headed to wash up, and took a deep look at myself in the mirror. The same expressionless face was looking back at me, just like every other day.

Miles Stillman was the name given to me, but I'm nothing more than an accountant who’s been mindlessly working at Deepdive Oil. I don't think anyone has ever really noticed me in my life. I’m good at what I do, but I just don’t care about it at all. My only real personal connection is to my mother, who I try to visit when I can, and I guess I pay her bills too, which is something some would call noble. But everything else? It’s all just numbers.

The next morning. My eyes glued to the numbers on my screen as I took notice of it, just a small discrepancy, a few dollars missing from a financial report. Probably a clerical error, was my first thought. But I kept looking deeper and it wasn’t just one report. There were several, and added all together, this number wasn’t so small anymore. It seemed like money was moving around through a company I’d never heard of, some shell company in a rough part of town.

I told myself to ignore it, I literally muttered aloud, “Leave it alone,” to convince myself, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. I don’t know why, but something felt wrong about it. It was too neat and organized to be a mistake. I stared at the screen, wondering if I should take it to my boss, but then I paused. What if he already knew? What if I found something I wasn’t supposed to see?

Too nervous to bring it up to anyone, I left work that day needing a distraction. I went to visit my mother. She has been pretty steady these days, but every time I visit it feels like she has to think about who I am for a moment before remembering. She’s still up and active, but she remembers less every time I visit. I am always frustrated with her asking the same questions every week: ‘How was work?’ or ‘Any new girlfriends?’ Though nothing ever changes between our visits.

The following day, I entered work with those numbers fresh on my mind. I spent hours pouring over the ledgers again, my mind spinning with questions. Embezzlement? Fraud? And where is it even going? 

As I am heading back from lunch, just as the elevator doors close, a man slides in beside me, dressed in a high-end suit. He doesn’t even acknowledge me, too engrossed in the phone conversation he was having. I listen closely, incredibly curious about who this man may be. 

“I can't talk about this stuff here,” he pauses, then continues slightly more quietly, “only the higher-ups know about that.”

I tried not to make it obvious that I was listening, but I have heard enough to spike my interest. Without thinking, I joke, “Seems like you got an important job here. What do you do?” 

“My only job is watching what people are working on and making sure things stay in check,” the man said, looking me up and down and handing me his business card.  “Careful where you dig,” he adds, just as I step out of the elevator. 

I freeze in my place. What did that mean? And who the hell was that guy? Looking down at the card he slipped into my hand. Daniel Oberland - Chief Executive Officer of Deepdive Oil  it read. I can’t stop contemplating why he said that to me. Did he already know what I found? 

My night was spent scouring the internet for information on that shell company, but after hours of digging, I learned practically nothing. There are no photos, no information, nothing but a street address. It was as if the company had been scrubbed from existence. Wrestling with the temptation to leave it alone, to convince myself it was just another dead end, I couldn’t get an ounce of sleep. But the more I tried to forget it, the more that street address pulled me in, like an itch I needed to scratch.

The following morning, I found myself staring at the front door of the building, hesitating to take the step inside. A dilapidated warehouse, backlit by the rising sun. I pushed the rusted door open and stepped inside. Surprisingly, the interior was very elegant: high vaulted ceilings, intricate metalwork, and crystal chandeliers casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room as they caught the light.

I approached the front desk and muttered, “I’m here to see someone,” and put Daniel’s card down on the table. The receptionist barely looked up. She didn’t need to. The moment she saw the card, her lips tightened into a thin line. “Wait here.” Her eyes flicked up, briefly locking with mine, before she vanished into the back. When she returned, she didn’t speak. She just gestured to a door behind her. The hallway beyond was narrow, darker than I expected, leading to an elevator with a brass plate that gleamed under a flickering light. “The Library,” it read. No turning back now.

The elevator doors opened up to an underground fever dream of flashing lights and vibrating dance floors. The warehouse above was complete camouflage for what was down below. Before me stood an endless, raging club, filled with thousands of people and the thumping beat of electronic music. Looking around, everyone seemed either dangerous or severely inebriated, I felt painfully out of place. To my left, a group of men loomed, their faces in a wild frenzy of excitement as they shoved a stack of cash toward the bar. The air was thick with sweat and alcohol, but then the sound of a gunshot rang out, followed by frantic laughter. I turned to see a group of men had gathered for a game of Russian roulette. One of them held a revolver, and with a reckless grin, he spun the cylinder and pressed it against his temple. Laughter roared out, blocking out the world around me. The tension crackled in the air as he pulled the trigger… click…a hollow sound that sent a wave of relief through the group. They erupted in cheers, daring him to try again. This is madness, I thought, repulsed, yet unable to look away. The juxtaposition of violence and joy; it made me sick to the stomach but I couldn't walk away.

I squeezed through the crowd to the bar, keeping my head low, trying not to draw attention. “Can I get a gin and tonic,” I said to the bartender. She handed me the drink, a sly smile crossing her lips. “That man over there told me to send you his way,” she said, pointing towards a bustling table in the corner. 

My heart raced as I turned and saw him. Daniel, in the flesh, standing on a table across an opening in the club. At first, I didn’t understand what he was looking at. But as I edged closer, I could see it more clearly. People were packed around, shouting and throwing money into the air, their faces twisted with exhilaration as fists were flying back and forth. Two men were locked in a brutal clash in the center. They weren’t just fighting, they were beating the crap out of each other. Blood splattering everywhere, painting the floor a deep shade of red. The sickening sound of bone against flesh echoed as loud as the bumping music. This clearly is more than just a club.

I couldn't look away from the violence, letting Daniel slip out of my sight. He wasn't at his table anymore, so I decided to go get another drink. “Back so soon, huh?” the bartender said, as she mixed another drink. “I lost sight of him when I saw the fighting. Do you know where he went?” I replied. She leaned in closer to my ear, “The regulars tend to hang out in the VIP area between fights, I could help you get in there if you’d like.” She kinda smiled at me before handing me a whiskey on the rocks and saying, “Take this to the guy guarding the door over there. Tell him it’s from me and, if you’re lucky, that should be enough to get you in.” 

“Thanks,” I spoke up and then made my way towards the VIP entrance. The guy stared me down as I walked up, but as I handed him the whiskey and explained, he said, “I like your character, Be careful in there,” letting me in the door. 

The atmosphere was completely different inside. The pounding music from the club was almost completely muffled out and the air was thick with cigar smoke. In the dim light, shadows stretched along the walls, making the space feel as if it were closing in on itself. As I walked deeper into the room, I caught a glimpse of Daniel sitting on a lavish couch surrounded by people laughing, drinking, and looking out over the club through a massive window. Daniel seemed like the life of the party. 

I scrambled out of view before Daniel could catch sight of me, ducking down a dark hallway. Before I could even take ten steps, I heard a voice from behind me say, “What are you doing over there?” With no excuse to offer, I was dragged back to the main room. 

I sat down in a chair, and with an intimidating man’s hand tightly gripping my shoulder, I knew I wasn't getting out of there. In front of me stood a small group of people dressed in their finest clothes with Daniel sitting right in the center of the pack. I tried to get a word out, but Daniel quickly cut me off and began speaking.

“You’re a curious guy, Miles. I like that. Most people in your line of work don’t ask questions. They clock in, do their job, and go run home to their mommies. But you… you’ve been poking around, haven’t you?” 

He knew my name. My heart skipped a beat, and I just admitted it. “I wouldn’t say I’ve been digging, I just came across some numbers that seemed off in my report the other day. I wasn't looking for trouble.” 

Daniel chuckled, his eyes were sharp, calculating as he said, “I already know all of that.” “Daniel,” I found myself inquiring, unable to hold back, “What’s actually going on here?” Seemingly gratified by my response, Daniel motioned me over towards the glass and pointed down at the fight about to take place. “Look down there, Miles? That… That’s just entertainment; a little blood and violence to keep the people entertained. But what you’re really asking about, is how I fit into the picture.” 

“You see, The Library is part of a larger network of underground clubbing, gambling, and fighting circles. Basically a safe haven for the degenerates of the world. The profits need to move discretely to keep things clean for the guys like me. Basically… it's very unlawful.”

My mind raced. I’d stumbled into something severely illegal… and probably immoral too, but Daniel was casually explaining it like we were discussing the weather.

“Why are you telling me all of this,” I had to ask, my voice trembling.

“Because you’re useful to me, Miles. I’ve seen your knack for numbers, and you’ve already proven you can keep your mouth shut, not that you'd have anyone to tell anyway. But more importantly…” his breath lingered at my ear as he muttered, “You’re trapped, and you know it.”

Maybe I shouldn't have kept digging, I thought, my stomach turned thinking about what might come out of his mouth next.

“Think of it this way,” Daniel said after downing a swig of whiskey. “You’re on the inside now, whether you like it or not. You help me keep the numbers clean, and I’ll make sure you and your mother are taken care of.” He took a moment before continuing, “Step out of line, and… well, let's just say your mother was looking healthy today, and I wouldn’t want to see that change.” Daniel subtly grinned and finally said, “Nothing really is going to be different for you. Just know that when I hand you a file, it shouldn’t be treated the same as the rest. You need to find some way to hide everything.”

The days after that conversation blurred together. Daniel didn’t really speak to me again for a while, but I could feel his eyes were always watching. I studied the company’s inner workings from the files he gave me, carefully reworking Deepdive Oil’s official ledgers to hide anything illicit. Deepdive had been funneling tens of millions of dollars through multiple sectors of the business, laundering money for the Library’s underground network. I kept my head down, did my job, and made sure no one else could find out about this operation, but I couldn’t help but see my life a little differently. 

I began visiting my mother more frequently, perhaps out of fear of what might unfold, but it felt good to spend more time with her. I would tell her about the illegal coverups I was doing, knowing very well she wouldn't remember it moments later, but I just needed to talk to someone about it. However, that comfort didn’t last.

After a few months back in my workplace routine, I had covered up practically every trace of illegal activity in the company. Things had been quiet… too quiet. But then, out of the blue, I got a message to go up to Daniel’s office. A chill ran down my spine. What could he possibly want from me now? My head was spinning, replaying every decision I’d made, every secret I’d buried, as I stepped into the elevator. Each floor ticked by in agonizing slowness, the cold hum and rattle of the elevator amplifying the tension. By the time I reached his office door, my heart was pounding out of my chest. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.

“Welcome,” he said as I opened the doors to his office. Daniel was sitting behind his desk with a sharp look in his eyes. He gestured for me to sit down. The room felt heavy as I settled into the seat in front of him.

“You’ve been doing some great work,” Daniel began, fiddling with a pen on his desk. “You’ve done exactly what I needed. Everything’s clean now, all the loose ends tied up in a nice little box. I knew I could trust you to get the job done.”

I nodded along, unsure of where this was going. Daniel couldn’t just be complimenting me? He must be setting something up, and finally, he got to the point.

“But,” he paused and smiled at me, larger than I had ever seen before, “There’s one more thing I need you to do.” I tensed up, stuttering, “And what’s that?”

Daniel pulled a folder from his drawer and slid it across the table to me. It outlined the complete scope of Deepdive Oil’s illegal operations… everything I had spent months trying to cover up. But it had my name written all over it. Every transaction, alteration, connection to The Library, all pinned on me. 

“The fuck is this!” I shouted out, “You’re setting me up?!”

His smile widened. “Think about it, Miles. You are perfect for this. Completely invisible, forgotten, just a name on a desk. No one will question it. And I’ll walk away unscathed.” He reached down again to grab a stack of files I immediately recognized as the work I had been covering up. “Your hands are already all over these,” he said, “There's not really anything you can do about it. Why don't we just keep things nice and simple. Sign this and we can cut a deal that would limit jail time to under five years.”

My hands trembled as I looked down at the paper again. This had been planned from the beginning. He never intended to let me in on it; he just used me to take the fall.

“I… I won't do it,” I muttered, unable to look Daniel in the eyes. “I won't go down for all this.” 

Daniel’s expression intensified. “Oh, I think you will. Because you know if you don’t, let’s just say your mother’s situation can worsen significantly.” Handing me a pen, his voice dripping with false reassurance. “Just do it, Miles. I know you. I know you don’t want the hassle of fighting this. Let it happen, and I’ll make sure your mother gets the best care.” He took a breath and gave me a sinister look, “or you can just give up on your mommy.”

Something inside me snapped. I couldn’t let him win, especially not like this. I’d already sacrificed too much of myself, too much of my soul, to this scheme. And if I was going down, I was taking him with me. I grabbed the pen and scribbled my name on the bottom of the page, desperate to get out of there.

I didn’t go home. Instead, I gathered every piece of evidence I had: ledgers, files, documents that prove Daniel’s connection to corruption. I didn’t care about the consequences anymore. I didn’t care if I ended up in prison. I didn't even care if something happened to my mother either, she’d been on the decline anyways. I already made the decision. I knew I didn’t have the power to bring Daniel down by myself, but with the right people on my side, I could expose him, and shine a light on the corruption that was going on behind the scenes.

The next morning, I went straight to a journalist known for her relentless pursuit of corporate crime. I handed her everything: emails, financial records, internal communications. The journalist’s eyes widened as she flipped through the files, realizing the magnitude of this scandal. 

I went to the feds after that. I turned myself in, spilling everything I had on Deepdive and The Library. The agents were shocked by the scope of what I’d uncovered. They promised to investigate, to bring Daniel and his whole operation to justice, granting me immunity in the process. 

The news broke a day later. “Deepdive Oil Scandal: CEO Daniel Oberland at the Center of Massive Money Laundering Scheme.” The headlines spread like wildfire, and within days, Daniel was arrested, his empire crumbling down around him, but he never knew it was my doing. I had caught him off guard. Authorities raided Deepdive Oil, and The Library. The entire operation was dismantled in less than a week.

I stood there watching it crumble, I knew I wasn’t innocent; I had played my part in the crimes. But I felt a strange sense of peace knowing that I’d done something right in the end. I’d brought down Daniel, exposed his lies, freeing myself from his grip.

After that, I struggled to visit my mother, ashamed that I had decided to risk her life to save my own. I knew I had to face her, but after that… How could I? I knew she probably wouldn't remember my face anyways. I felt relieved as I stepped away from that criminal world. That fever dream was something I never thought I would have experienced in my life, but at least I was no longer under someone else’s thumb. At least I have a little bit of control now.

Written by Ari Blumberg